


Remote Control

by cakeisnotpie



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Oops, Sex Toys, Vibrators, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:10:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On answer to this prompt: <br/>for some reason i thought it would be fun to wear a wireless vibrator in public, but now i’ve lost the remote (option a. i know we don’t know each other well, but please help me find it before someone else does! or b. you’ve found it and are trying to figure out what it does) </p>
<p>#phil clicking the random remote he found #and peering across the hall as Clint yelps</p>
<p>As always, I changed it up a bit …</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remote Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ralkana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/gifts).



Phil pushed the up volume button for the fourth time and grimaced as the TV still didn’t come on. It was too damn early to play the Stark version of find the right remote — man made a coffee machine so complicated the remote looked like a launch panel for a nuclear missle — and Phil just wanted to check the damn weather before he crawled in bed. The last mission had been long and tiring and a waste of time; all showered and clean, Phil just needed to know if that snow storm was going to cause delays later when he was due back at HQ. 

Wandering through the living area of his apartment, Phil saw the TV remote right where he left it on the coffee table. Confused, he turned the small rectangular black device over in his hand and stared at it. Just two options — on/off and up/down — and he suddenly couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. He did a quick check — coffee maker, TV, DVD, satellite, lights, tempurpedic bed, speakers, music player — and all his remotes were where they were supposed to be. So what did this one do? And how did it get tossed into the covers of his bed?

He hit the up button again and heard a muffled groan coming from the closet. Opening the door, he found Clint Barton, hair tousled, nothing on but a pair of loose sleep pants, leaning against the shelves Phil kept his sweaters on. Clint was breathing quickly, a sheen of sweat glowing on his skin, his pupils dilated and wide eyed. 

“P-p-p-phil,” he stuttered out between trembling teeth. “So this is aw-aw-awkward.” 

The tiniest of buzzing sounds filled the momentary silence as Clint paused to compose himself. 

“Remember how you said … I could crash here … if I needed to?” Ragged voice, little hiccuping jolts between words, and Phil suddenly had an inkling what was going on. “Ummm, yeah, so, sorry and all but … you couldn’t turn that down a notch or two … so I can think straight?”

Phil’s eyes roved up and down Clint’s body, taking in toes curled into the carpet, the thick bar of his hard cock, the flushed head just peaking up above his waistband, and the clenched fists. All Phil did in response was raise an eyebrow and wait for more of an explanation.

“Right, yeah, okay, creepy … strange … I know … getting off in your bed.” Clint wiggled his hips, tightening the muscles of his thighs and ass in an effort to alleviate what had to be a high level of vibration. “But … damn it, at least drop it a level or two, please?” 

Amusement rolled through Phil followed by a very sharp stab of lust. How many times had he laid in that very bed and thought of what Clint would look like as he came beneath him? And here, in the flesh, was that fantasy, standing before him.

“Fine. Yes, I  … oh, fuck, Phil if you don’t turn that thing off, I’m going to make an even bigger fool out of myself than I already have,” Clint gasped out. 

“One question.” Phil ran his thumb across the buttons of the vibrator remote. “Was it specifically my bed? Or would any bed have sufficed?” 

Clint’s eyes jerked up and met his; the blue-grey depths darkened and he licked his lips. “The pillow smells like your aftershave.” 

Stepping out of the doorway, Phil tilted his head and let his eyes linger on the pearly drops of come leaking from the head of Clint’s cock.

“Bed. Now,” Phil said. 

Sucking in a quick breath, Clint’s face blossomed with a wide grin. 

“Yes, sir,” he replied. 


End file.
